


A Quiet Little Christmas

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Vienna Blood (TV)
Genre: Affection, Christmas Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Mushy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: With Max recovering from influenza the holidays have not gone as planned, but he and Oskar have managed all the same. They are at last home together with no worries. Reflections of our current worldwide struggle.
Relationships: Max Liebermann/Oskar Rheinhardt
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	A Quiet Little Christmas

Oskar woke to a cold foot stroking his ankle.

"Thank you very much," he grumbled. Though still half asleep, he rolled over and pinned Max beneath him. Max oofed with a soft chuckle, cut off by Oskar's kiss. For the next few minutes they lazily kissed and nuzzled, limbs twining in comfortable embrace, warming each other.

"Merry Christmas," Max whispered, pressing soft kisses to Oskar's shoulder.

"Thank you. It will be, judging by how it's beginning." No longer so cold, Oskar lay back against the pillows and looked around the room. The small bedroom fire was going, and he would be willing to bet that the radiators in the rest of the house were on, as well as hot water for coffee. He sighed. Max had been up in the cold, and that wasn't good.

"You should have let me do that." He indicated the fire.

"I'm fine now, really. You've taken such good care of me, it's time you were looked after too," Max murmured, resting his head on Oskar's chest.

"You haven't been well for very long. It's not good to push your luck. You shouldn't, yet," Oskar chided gently, fingers smoothing through Max's hair.

"It's all right. And this," Max sighed, "is heaven."

"At least tell me you had on your robe." Silence.

"Max!"

"It didn't take long. And I came back to bed very quickly." Oskar forced himself not to grind his teeth. It was Christmas Day and Max was with him, alive and nearly back to full health, and he wasn't going to spoil things by being overbearingly protective.

December had been a frightening month. Vienna had many cases of influenza and Max had been helping out at the Jewish Hospital clinic. Oskar was afraid he was wearing himself out, but helping where he was needed was just Max. They spent the first night of Hanukkah with the Liebermanns, but Max confessed on the way home to not feeling well. Within 24 hours he was bedridden, and Oskar was frantic.

Max refused to be cared for at the Liebermanns because he didn't want any of them ill because of him. The family doctor came a few times when he was going through the worst of it, bringing medicine for Oskar to administer. It was better, he told Oskar, if Max did not go to the hospital, to be surrounded only by others as ill or even more so than he was - if Oskar was willing to look after him.

Max had been worried that Oskar would be infected, but was slightly reassured when the doctor emphasized to Oskar that he should wear something to cover his nose and mouth when he was in the room with Max, and wash his hands frequently. Seeing how upset Max was if he forgot to do this, Oskar made sure he got into the routine of it. It let him, Max croaked, be ill without the additional worry.

Young and strong, Max nevertheless had a bad time, but began to recover slowly. The illness had robbed him of his strength and stamina and he spent days lying in bed, napping, or in one of the armchairs with a footstool, snugged in a blanket. It was only the last four days that he'd come back to a condition approaching his normal strength, and Oskar was not in favor of encouraging him to do anything but continue resting. He'd been determined however on accompanying Oskar to midnight mass last night and couldn't be talked out of it, so Oskar insisted on a cab and wrapped him in blankets. He was touched that Max wanted to be a part of his traditions as he was trying to honor Max's.

"Try to be good a while longer - for me?" Oskar asked softly.

"Yes," Max agreed grumpily, pretending to be unhappy but with a twinkle in his eye. "I am a little hungry. Perhaps coffee and a pastry? The water's boiled."

"Yes, I was sure it would be. Stay here, and do not get up," Oskar growled, getting out of bed and putting on a warm robe. He snugged the bedclothes around Max and disappeared into the kitchen.

Max stretched like a cat, turned his face into the pillows and closed his eyes. He was feeling better every day, he was alive, and Oskar was here to look after him and love him. He had been afraid. Afraid that he might not recover as quickly as he had, or worse. Influenza was serious. And he had wondered if Oskar would be able, or would want to care for him. Once he'd experienced Oskar's loving determination to look after him, everything else had fallen away. The disease took control of him, but with Oskar he could and would endure it, and he had. Life was good now.

In due course Oskar returned with the coffee pot, two cups and the pastries on a tray, which he refused to put within reach until Max had put on a warm nightshirt and his robe and was settled back under the covers. A comfortable, leisurely breakfast then ensued. The coffee was hot and rich; Max had missed it. The pastries were from Café Sperl, and both of them happily indulged in holiday goodness manifested in almonds and spice.

When they couldn't eat any more, Oskar took the tray back to the kitchen. On his return, Max patted the bed.

"Come back for a while?" he asked.

"I would like to, but I should dress, and I must go see Annika about our dinner," he reminded Max, referring to the neighbor who cooked meals for them.

"There's time." Max's voice contained a hint of petulance.

"There is not, if we are to be considerate," Oskar persisted quietly.

Max sighed, but he had the look in his eye and quirk of his mouth that had hooked Oskar early on in their acquaintance.

"Dinner is arranged, and it's not from Annika. Don't worry about calling on her."

"But she should know. She-"

Max rolled his eyes, grinning now. "The food will be delivered to her, and she will bring it later. Her family will also have a dinner from the same source, so she does not have to cook. It's at her house because it was supposed to be a surprise," he explained. "We have hours yet. Now come here. I need my medicine, and you deserve a day of rest as much as she does. Oskar, please," he finished wistfully.

"Can I refuse you anything?" Oskar groused, shaking his head. He took off his robe and got into bed. He opened his mouth to protest when Max shrugged out of his robe, but he was stopped by a finger to his mouth.

"Too many clothes between us," he murmured, moving into Oskar's arms and snuggling close.

What was there to protest in this moment, Oskar thought, kissing Max on the forehead, then the nose and on the soft, yielding mouth. Nothing. He was tired, and he had missed this closeness as much as Max had. He pressed his face to silky hair and closed his eyes, drowsing contentedly in Max's little sighs, mutters, squeaks and hums of happiness as he melted into his arms. These sounds of Max's love for and happiness with him, as he thought of them, never failed to touch him deeply. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that Max had recovered. He was right, they both needed and deserved this time.

***

For all his intent not to nap very long, Oskar woke only because he heard the front door close firmly. The weaker light outside indicated it was mid-late afternoon. He got out of bed quickly, threw on his robe and a pair of trousers and went out hoping to catch Annika, but he was too late, she had finished and just gone.

The feast laid out on the dining table looked and smelled delicious. There was a bottle of wine and one of champagne. A roast goose held pride of place, stuffed with a traditional dressing, and red cabbage and roasted potatoes. There was also knodel, a pumpkin soup, and last a beautiful sachertorte. How had Max managed all of this?

Oskar returned to the bedroom to find him awake.

"Dinner is here. It looks incredible. I'm glad Annika will have the same. Thank you, that was kind."

"She was here to look after me when you couldn't be. She works hard and she deserves it," Max smiled. "I'm glad the dinner pleases you. I didn't know-"

"It's perfect. Really. Are you hungry, or do you want to wait?"

"I'm starving, actually."

"Well that is good to hear, after needing to force you to eat something for the past week," Oskar teased gently. "Put on your robe and slippers and come to the table. I'll get the wine glasses and carve the goose."

"Yes, Inspector," Max grinned.

By the time he appeared at the table, everything was ready. It was noted that he had apparently washed and freshened himself as his hair was a bit damp, his face rosy, and he smelled of the cologne Oskar liked. Oskar felt slightly shoddy and unclean for not having had the opportunity to do the same, but he'd learned that Max actually preferred him to smell like 'himself,' whether he had washed or not.

The food was excellent, they were both hungry, and it was largely devoured in short order. It pleased Oskar to see Max eating heartily and enjoying the wine. He loved a good meal and it had been weeks since he'd been able eat one. When they were both completely stuffed, he shooed Max in the direction of what had become 'his' chair but in reality had been Else's. He'd been relieved that Max's gaze hadn't wandered in that direction during dinner.

"Oskar, what is this?"

"What is what?" Taking dishes into the kitchen and putting food into the ice box, Oskar feigned puzzlement.

"There's a new - a different chair."

Oskar wiped his hands on a towel and came into the room.

"Oh, that. Sit, see if you find it comforable," he suggested.

Max gave him a Look and settled himself in the chair, which was upholstered in overstuffed, aged leather similar to Oskar's chair. A matching ottoman was quickly produced.

"Put your feet up. Get comfortable."

"Is this for me? A Christmas gift?" Max puzzled.

"Yes, and not really. It's definitely for you, and I suppose it is a gift, but not meant to be for Christmas."

"It's very comfortable. Larger, and more cushioned, but firm against my back," Max assured. "Why then, my love?" he asked quietly.

"Because the other was Else's chair when she was mistress of this house. I didn't like that you were forced of necessity to use it. You deserve your own chair. Because I wanted to do it, and I needed to," Oskar confessed softly.

"Come here," Max beckoned. When Oskar was close enough he took his arm, and lay his cheek against it.

"It's a wonderful chair. Thank you." Max knew Oskar was still working through his memories in the house, of his broken marriage and his lost beloved child. It's why there was no Christmas tree. It reminded Oskar too much of Mitzi and it wasn't important to Max to have one.

"I like it very much. Come here," he breathed, "and kiss me." Oskar leaned down and they shared a soft, slow kiss. "Do you want to open gifts now?"

"You are my gift, Max Liebermann, the only one I need. But yes, let us open the champagne and the gifts as well."

They had agreed that since there was no tree, gifts should be placed, wrapped, in what had been Mitzi's room. Because, Oskar said, Mitzi loved gifts and packages. He had not been in the room since he'd put his gifts for Max in there. It was still painful. He was grateful that Max knew, and let him grieve. He put more of the sweet-smelling wood on the fire that Max insisted they use this month instead of the usual, more economical, coal. He had Max pop the champagne and pour their glasses.

Max knew that his income versus Oskar's might be a problem between them if he wasn't mindful. So far he'd spent relatively sparingly on their home and creature comforts and when he did it was always more with Oskar's comfort in mind than his own. Oskar had mostly accepted this in good grace because he knew it made Max happy to give and he hadn't overdone it. Tonight, however, Max was genuinely nervous and he hoped that Oskar wouldn't be upset with him, because this was a bit more than the usual and he knew it.

" _Prost! Fröliche Weihnachten,_ Max."

" _Fröliche Weihnachten, mein liebes_."

They shared a glass before Oskar opened the bedroom door and turned on the light, where he got a bit of a shock. His eyes quickly found the two packages he'd put in for Max, but there were several other packages. More than several. His first thought was what had Max done, and his second was _how_ had he done it, and when?

"Max?" he asked with raised eyebrows, placing Max's packages in his lap.

"They're not all from me," Max explained. "They're from my family too. And practical," he offered nervously. Seeing how flustered he was only increased Oskar's trepidation. It took two trips to bring all the packages into the room. Oskar put them on the sofa next to his chair.

"Open that one first. It's best if I know at once whether you're angry with me." Max pointed to the largest box.

Oskar took the lid off the box, and gasped. Inside was a business suit coat and trousers of excellent material and the latest style, in a muted dark green wool. He understood instantly that it was something he could never afford, that it was exquisite, and that Max had given it to him out of love and pride and a desire to shove the insults of his colleagues back in their teeth. It was impossible, and he supposed it should offend him, but it did not. The planning, the effort that had gone into the gift spoke so strongly of love and understanding that it was a bit overwhelming.

"Please don't be angry." He heard the tension and worry in Max's voice.

"It is very handsome. You know I should be upset with you, but I cannot be. Not about this so personal gift, because I know your reasons and they can only make me smile. It is wonderful. Thank you, _mein süßer Max,_ " Oskar smiled, his eyes full. "But what are all these other things? That is too much," he half-chided.

"It's only all the rest that goes along with it, from my family, who wanted so much to do this too. And you know my father when it comes to sartorial perfection," Max gave a quiet chuckle. He was so relieved that Oskar wasn't angry that his relief and the champagne were making him giddy.

Of course, thought Oskar, the suit had been made in or sourced from Mendel Liebermann's shop, as would some of the accompaniements, and even one of the gifts he had gotten for Max with Mendel's advice. What could he do but let go and enjoy his gifts?

There were two shirts of fine linen, under-vests of soft cotton and similar underpants, some collars, braces trimmed in leather, a tie, and lastly a note that he could go to the shop and pick out a hat, and a nearby shoemaker for a made to-measure pair of shoes. It was true, the various gifts were from Mendel, Rachel, Leah and even Daniel, so they seemed to come from many, but Oskar knew whose heart it had all come from, even if the family were fond of him too.

"I really don't know what to say. So much - too much, but it is wonderful, Max, and the thought and the feelings behind it all are very special to me." Oskar's voice quavered a little as he came to sit on the ottoman. Awkwardly, he lay his head in Max's lap. "You are the unexpected joy I thought I would never have in my life again."

There were several quiet minutes spent with Max stroking the short, graying bristles on Oskar's head, and rubbing his shoulder in gentle love. After taking his time to finish off another glass of champagne, he ventured "May I open my gifts now?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry." Oskar sat up.

"Don't be sorry, even for a moment," Max reassured him with a quick kiss.

The first gift was an exquisitely soft cashmere scarf that Max knew had come from his father's shop. It was in a shade of blue that set off his eyes well. Was that Oskar's doing, or his father's? Probably both, he decided. And his father would have given Oskar a good price.

"It's perfect. And _very_ soft," he enthused.

"As soft as your _Hintern_ ," Oskar agreed. Max burst out laughing, planting another kiss. It was beginning to dawn on Oskar that Max was rather tipsy. He should have realized. No alcohol for weeks, then wine _and_ champagne, and it wasn't so surprising. Well, it didn't matter. They were home and he was here to look after Max.

The last gift was a handsome black waistcoat decorated with wonderful Chinese embroidery in bright colors. It was clearly meant to add a bit of splash to eveningwear, and Max was delighted with it. Noticeable and subtly flashy, but not garish.

"I love it! Oskar, you surprise me," Max grinned, holding it up and marveling at the bright silk threads.

"You have Leah to thank, she found it in the shop and said she thought you would like it over others we saw," Oskar confessed.

"Leah took you shopping for me? Oh, _liebes,_ " Max chortled quietly. "That's wonderful. I love everything, including my new chair. Thank you." He planted a slightly sloppy kiss on Oskar's cheek. Despite what Oskar had said, he didn't think the timing of the chair was incidental.

"It's my pleasure, _Schatz,_ I'm glad you like them. So, now will you tell me how you arranged all of this without me knowing?"

"It's really thanks to my father and Leah. Your suit, I had planned with my father some time ago. I gave him your measurements and sizes then, and I left the details to him. The other things, I was supposed to purchase. When I was too ill to do it," Max shrugged half-apologetically, "I telephoned Leah and my father and suggested things, but they did the rest. The dinner, well I telephoned the restaurant to arrange it and then told Annika. I had to be careful that you wouldn't hear, so it's mostly been this past week when you were back in your office," he finished. "It wasn't so very difficult."

"It was a lot of effort when you were still ill. You will always be able to surprise me, I think. You have brought happiness back to my life, every day. _Liebster_ Max." Oskar rested his head against Max's knee.

"You are my shelter, and my passion," Max murmured. "Oskar - let's go to bed."

"That sounds good. You go on, I'll see to the fire and follow in a few minutes. And warm up your feet," Oskar teased. He managed to bank the fire and was just going to take the champagne flutes into the kitchen when he heard a loud thump, then a muffled one, and genteel profanity. He rushed into the hallway to find Max on the floor between the bathroom and bedroom.

"Are you all right?" he fussed as he helped him to stand and escorted him into the bedroom.

"Ah yes, sorry. Bit unsteady on my feet. Room keeps moving. Damn," Max giggled.

Oskar chuckled softly. "Let's get you in bed. It's been a full evening." He sat Max on the edge of the bed and removed his slippers and robe, then tucked him in. "I'll make a hot water bottle."

"You be my hot water bottle," Max whined. 

"All right." He shook his head slightly in fond exasperation. When everything in the house was secure, he undressed and slipped into bed, spooning himself tightly around Max, who gave a great groan of contentment.

"I wanted to… I thought we would..." Max muttered with a reluctant sigh.

"I know _Schatzi,_ I know. You're tired, and the champagne was a little much. But we have all of tomorrow. Only sleep now, all right?"

"Evrything moving," Max whimpered, "even with my eyes closed."

"It will pass. _Schlaf,_ " Oskar breathed in his ear.

"Will you sing, a little? The Christmas song."

"If you like."

Oskar began to sing, his voice wrapping warm velvet around Max.

_Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht  
Alles schläft; einsam wacht  
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.  
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,  
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!  
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!_

Max grew limp in his arms, and he felt as well as heard his heavy sigh of relaxation, followed by a soft little burp. So perfectly Max, Oskar thought. What a Christmas this had been. He too was tired, and a bit drunk on happiness himself. He rested his chin on Max's shoulder and let his lover's warmth lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little holiday prezzie. It builds from/on my other stories, but it's not a must to have read them in order. I have created a bit of a history, though.
> 
> My stories use some of the background from the books by Frank Tallis. In the books Oskar is a fine singer, and he often sings while Max plays the piano. 
> 
> Hintern=arse, backside  
> Various terms of endearment that mean love, dearest, sweetheart etc.  
> Süßer=sweet


End file.
